


Summer Quest

by Attenia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 13:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: When Merlin accompanies Arthur on the annual summer quest, things don't go as planned. Arthur starts to realise that his manservant is more than just a manservant to him, and Merlin finds reason to hope that Arthur may return his feelings after all. Merthur. Happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

The first day of summer dawns bright and cheerful… and Merlin is utterly miserable. He knows what the first day of summer means – the summer quest. Four weeks of running around after Arthur and his knights as they chase down whatever catches their fancy.  
It’s no ordinary hunting, the summer quest – this is a hunting trip for creatures of magic. They invariably end up killing something beautiful and defenceless, and Merlin is never able to save it. His spirits drop further as he sees Arthur walking across the courtyard. He could have pretended he was sick and gotten out of the quest… if it wasn’t for Arthur. Though he never said it, Merlin knows that Arthur wants him there, and Merlin can’t refuse Arthur anything.  
Merlin shoves the last of Arthur's tunics into the bag and leaves his chambers, heading for the stables to prepare his horse. He dodges Arthur on the way, his eyes on Jack, hovering in the shadows. Merlin reaches out for Jack, who pulls him into the shadows.  
“I’ll miss you,” the stable hand whispers, planting a kiss on Merlin's mouth.  
“I’ll miss you too,” Merlin says honestly. He knows he’s not being fair to Jack. In truth, all he will miss about Jack is the distraction he provides. Merlin ignores his scruples and kisses Jack, allowing himself to focus solely on the physical, forgetting all of his other problems.  
They jump apart when a crash sounds just outside the stable door. Arthur is standing only a few feet away, his feet covered in water from the bucket he just dropped. For a second, Merlin thinks he sees something flicker across Arthur's face, but it is gone too quickly to be sure. Then Arthur's face goes brick red.  
“What do you think you’re doing!” he yells at his servant. He strides forward and yanks the two of them apart, shoving the stable boy roughly into the wall, feeling a wave of satisfaction when the boy winces.  
“What – what do you mean?” Merlin stammers, not meeting his eyes, blushing.  
“What part of ‘get the horses ready’ did you think means ‘kiss the stable boy’?” Arthur yells in his face. “Do you think this is what I pay you for? You’re a lazy, useless, sloppy servant, Merlin, and you’re lucky I don’t get rid of you right now.”  
Merlin is frozen before him, looking like he’s trying to hold back tears.  
“Just get out of my sight,” Arthur says, turning away from Merlin, fuming. Merlin doesn’t need telling twice. He turns and runs.  
Arthur turns back to the stable boy. “And you. If I ever see you near my servant again, you’ll be in the stocks all summer, do you understand?”  
“Y – yes sire,” the boy stammers. Arthur storms off.  
He doesn’t get far before he is intercepted on the steps by Morgana. “What was that, Arthur?” she demands, looking scary.  
“What do you mean?” he mutters angrily.  
“What did you just assault poor boy for?” she says, following him as he tries to get away.  
“He was with Merlin,” Arthur growls, fighting the urge to go back and give the boy a good beating.  
“So what? Why should you care? Since when do you have any claim on what Merlin does with his personal life?”  
Arthur opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. “Look, Morgana, I don’t have time for this,” he spits. “I need to get ready for the quest.”  
“You’ll push him away, you know,” Morgana calls to his retreating back, but Arthur ignores her, too busy trying to block out her earlier words to hear. He slows, leaning against a windowsill, thinking. If he’s really honest with himself, she has a point. He has no reason to be mad at Merlin for who he sees. It’s not like Merlin did anything wrong, really…  
He’s my friend, Arthur argues with himself. He should have told me. Why exactly he expected Merlin to tell him, he’s not sure, but it feels almost like a betrayal that Merlin never mentioned the stable boy before.  
Unable to find a satisfactory answer as to why Merlin's rendezvous bothers him so much, Arthur settles for punching the wall as hard as he can. The corresponding pain has him sorely regretting it, but at least it takes his mind off things.  
Merlin rushes to the kitchens to get food for Arthur's lunch, trying to pull himself together. There’s no reason for him to be upset that Arthur saw him with Jack. After all, it’s not like Arthur will ever return Merlin's feelings; why shouldn’t Merlin distract himself? And if Arthur sees, it’s not like it will make any difference.  
Still, Merlin can’t help feeling guilty, like he’s betrayed his love for Arthur, one sided as it is. He doesn’t understand why Arthur reacted like that. It’s not like Merlin disappeared for a day or anything. A few minutes with Jack wasn’t going to make him late, so why did Arthur care?  
Maybe he’s just in a bad mood, Merlin thinks, and taking it out on me as usual. Yes, that’s probably it.  
Merlin hates it when Arthur is angry with him for whatever reason. He yearns to take Arthur into his arms and whisper comforting things in his ear, but he knows Arthur would never allow it – Merlin would probably be banished for even thinking such thing.  
He forces a smile onto his face. Maybe if he is cheerful enough, it’ll help ease Arthur's bad mood. He is humming when he brings in Arthur's lunch, hoping that it’s enough to mask his melancholy.  
When Merlin walks in, Arthur looks at him only briefly before turning away. Merlin is smiling brightly, but Arthur can still tell that he’s upset. He knows Merlin too well for his servant to be able to hide things from him.  
Guilt washes over Arthur. Should he apologise? No, he can’t apologise to a servant. He’ll do something to cheer him up, though.  
“Sit down,” Arthur says as Merlin lays the tray on the table. Merlin hesitates before lowering himself onto a chair. By his expression, he expects to be shouted at again.  
“I’m not that hungry,” Arthur says, gesturing to the large plate of food. “You’ll have to help me finish it.”  
Merlin's eyes widen. “Are you sure, sire?”  
“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says, rolling his eyes. “Just eat.”  
A smile tugs at the corners of Arthur's mouth as he watches the incredulous joy spread across Merlin's face. Merlin seldom eats food this good; it’s clear that he’s very pleased with the treat. Arthur picks at his food, still pondering Morgana's words. He wonders if he should talk to Merlin about the incident earlier, but decides against it. Now that Merlin seems more cheerful, Arthur doesn’t want to ruin it by bringing it up.  
Seeing Merlin's bright, genuine smile, Arthur's spirits lift slightly and he puts the conversation with Morgana from his mind, digging into his food with more enthusiasm. 

A couple of hours later, the party is leaving for the month-long hunt. Merlin rides behind Arthur as usual. The knights who chose to come this year follow behind. Arthur holds the compass, following carefully.  
His father never told him where the compass came from, but it has proved invaluable in the summer quest. The compass points, not north, but towards the closest beast of magic. All they need to do is follow it.  
As the day goes on, Merlin babbles as usual. Arthur smiles to himself, remembering how boring these quests were before Merlin came along. He glances up at the sky, surprised to see storm clouds forming. Evidently, summer isn’t as over as they had thought.  
“Merlin,” he calls.  
“Yes, sire?” Merlin rides up next to him.  
“I want you to ride ahead, see if there’s a place for us to make camp. I don’t want to be riding when that storm hits.”  
“Alright,” Merlin says brightly. Arthur shifts his reins and winces slightly as the hand he hit the wall with gets jostled.  
“What is it?” Merlin asks.  
“Nothing,” Arthur mutters.  
“Let me see.” Merlin doesn’t give Arthur a chance to refuse, grabbing his hand and examining it gently. Merlin's heart rate picks up as it always does when he touches Arthur. He hopes Arthur doesn’t notice. He looks closely at Arthur's hand. The knuckles are bruised, and Arthur holds his hand stiffly, as though moving it causes him pain.  
“Why didn’t you get Gaius to examine this before we left?” Merlin demands.  
“It’s nothing,” Arthur says.  
“How did you even do this?” Merlin murmurs, stroking his fingers over Arthur's hand. Arthur jerks his hand away and Merlin blushes, realising too late what he was doing.  
“It’s nothing,” Arthur says, sounding embarrassed.  
However, Merlin won’t shut up until Arthur tells him. Finally, Arthur gives in. “I hit a wall,” he admits.  
“Why?”  
“Merlin – just go ahead and try to find a campsite, ok?” Arthur says impatiently.  
“Clotpole,” Merlin mutters.  
“Idiot,” Arthur shoots back, but he’s not sure Merlin hears him.  
Merlin rides with his eyes peeled for a likely looking spot, his mind full of Arthur. What did the stupid prat hit a wall for? It’s not like Merlin can just heal him with magic – not if he wants to keep his head. He starts looking around for herbs. Gaius isn’t here, so Merlin will just have to do the best he can without him.  
By the time they have finished setting up camp, a light drizzle is falling. Merlin makes sure Arthur has everything he needs before rushing out to collect herbs to help with Arthur's hand. The drizzle gets heavier and heavier until it is pouring and Merlin is soaked.  
“Merlin, why are you all wet?” Arthur demands as a shivering Merlin pushes through his tent flap.  
“It’s raining, you prat,” Merlin says, clearly grouchy.  
Arthur bites back a harsh retort and watches as Merlin grabs one of his bowls and starts grinding stuff up in it. “What are you doing?” Merlin ignores him until he has a fine paste in the bowl.  
“Here,” he says, reaching for Arthur's injured hand. He is surprisingly gentle as he spreads the paste all over the sore knuckles. A lump forms in Arthur's throat as he watches. Merlin is shivering, soaked to the bone – as he surely knew he would be, going out in the rain like that – but he still did, just to get some herbs to ease Arthur's pain.  
Arthur sighs in relief as the ache lessens, almost vanishes.  
“Thanks, Merlin,” he says. Merlin looks surprised, but smiles happily. He makes to leave the tent, but Arthur grabs his arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”  
“I was going to go to sleep – unless you need anything else?”  
Arthur rolls his eyes. “You’re not going outside again, you’ll just get even more soaked. You’ll sleep here tonight.”  
Merlin looks at him with wide eyes.  
“Well come on, get those wet clothes off,” Arthur says impatiently. “I’ll lend you a tunic until tomorrow – we can hang your things by the fire so that they dry overnight.”  
Merlin is still looking at Arthur with panic clearly written all over his face. Sleep with Arthur? No, he can’t deal with it. He’s going to mess up, say or do something he shouldn’t. It’s already hard enough to be close to Arthur in the day. He’s about to say no when he sees Arthur shiver slightly, Arthur is also cold, despite the fire. Merlin can hardly let him stay here cold and alone, can he?  
Merlin keeps his back to Arthur while getting changed into the spare tunic. He inhales deeply, trying not to let Arthur see. Arthur's tunic smells amazing.  
He turns, shaking with what he hopes Arthur assumes is cold, to see Arthur already in bed. Merlin forces his feet forward and forces his imagination back. Arthur's cold and you’re a warm body, that’s all it is, he tells himself firmly. When he climbs into bed with Arthur, he can’t stop himself sighing at finally being there. True, the circumstances aren’t what he would have wanted, but this is the closest he’s ever likely to get.  
Arthur hesitates before wrapping one arm around Merlin. Merlin seems to sink into him, sighing softly. He’s still shivering, but his body beside Arthur's is oddly warm and comforting. Arthur shakes his head slightly, trying to shake out the fuzzy thoughts that are jangling around in the back of his mind.  
Merlin is tense at first, but as Arthur's breathing evens out, his does, too. Arthur does not sleep well, for he is plagued by confusing dreams about Merlin, dreams he can’t make any sense of. He wakes with a start in the middle of the night. Merlin has turned over in his sleep and his face is nuzzled into Arthur's shoulder. This should make Arthur uncomfortable, but for some reason, it doesn’t. He sighs, wrapping his arms around Merlin, and drifts back to sleep.

 

Please read and review!! This is only my second fan fiction, so any feedback is much appreciated! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur wakes up slowly, the light filtering in through the fabric of the tent. He takes a deep, content breath, for a second not realising why he is so happy and peaceful.  
Merlin shifts slightly, mumbling something in his sleep. Arthur sits up in a rush, reality swooping back down in on him. He glances at Merlin, still sleeping peacefully. Merlin's arms tighten around Arthur's waist in his sleep, unconsciously trying to pull Arthur closer. Arthur knows he should dislodge his servant, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t even bring himself to want to do it.   
Arthur puts his head in his hands, trying to think. What’s wrong with him? This is Merlin! Arthur shouldn’t want to lie down with him again, to hold him all day, to fall asleep like they did last night every night in the future. He must be going crazy. He tries to sort out his feelings, but he’s never been good at feelings, so he does the simplest thing – shoves any confusing feelings and thoughts to the back of his mind and locks them away.  
As confused as he is, he can’t bring himself to wake Merlin – he looks so peaceful. He just props himself up and listens to the sound of the other knights getting breakfast ready. He should make Merlin get his breakfast. His hands absently stroke Merlin's hair before he realises what he’s doing and jerks them away.  
Merlin stirs and yawns, his eyes opening lazily. The first thing he sees is Arthur's face, less than a foot above him. Merlin stiffens in Arthur's arms, his face frozen in panic. Before Arthur can say a word, Merlin has scrambled away from him and is rushing out of the tent, shouting about getting breakfast over his shoulder.  
Arthur tries to suppress the irrational wave of hurt that goes through him. So Merlin is being a good servant, getting his breakfast… that doesn’t explain the look of panic on Merlin's face a second ago. Surely, he knows Arthur would never hurt him? What could cause such a look of distress? More confused than ever, Arthur makes a concerted effort to put his manservant from his mind, knowing that it’s a futile effort, for Merlin will be back in minutes anyway.  
Merlin ignores the friendly greetings from the knights as he hurries through making Arthur's breakfast. His breathing accelerates again as he remembers where he was only a moment ago. The temptation to reach up and kiss Arthur had been too much; he’d had to get away before he messed everything up.  
He throws this spoon angrily into the bush, going over the scene in his head despite himself. Merlin hadn’t thought anything would hurt more than being around Arthur every day, touching him, talking to him. He’d gotten used to that – the bittersweet tinge to it. Some of Arthur was better than none, anyway.   
This morning had taken him by surprise, though. To have Arthur holding him like that – almost lovingly – and knowing that Arthur would never know how much it meant, would never return the feelings in kind… well, that hurt more than Merlin could have possibly imagined.  
Merlin wearily gets up and walks into the bushes to retrieve his spoon.  
When he walks into Arthur's tent, he tries not to meet his eyes, putting the tray down for him and retreating. “Merlin.” Merlin freezes on the spot, then slowly turns.  
“What’s wrong?” Arthur asks. His voice is so soft and concerned, it’s all Merlin can do not to break down and tell him.   
“I’m not feeling well, sire,” Merlin says.   
Arthur frowns at him, clearly not believing his excuse. “Well come sit down,” he says gesturing to his tray. “You must be hungry, too.”  
Being close to Arthur is hardly going to help Merlin right now, but he can’t refuse, not when Arthur is looking so upset and worried. Merlin wonders what’s on his mind. He sits and eats with Arthur, chatting away as usual. He doesn’t say anything specific, but as he talks and does his best to forget about this morning, Arthur's spirits do seem to lift a bit.  
The storm seems to have blown itself out overnight, and they ride through dappled sunshine. The compass is still pointing steadily north-east; whatever beast they are tracking, it probably has a lair where it stays whilst not attacking innocent victims. Merlin chatters on as usual, and everything seems back to normal.  
That night after they make camp, Arthur calls Merlin to his tent.   
“Merlin, I was wondering if you have any more of that ointment – the one you put on my hand yesterday?”   
Merlin is surprised, but gratified. Arthur so seldom admits he is in pain that it’s a surprise to Merlin he’s mentioning it at all, but it’s nice to be appreciated – and Arthur is as good as admitting that Merlin did well mixing up the ointment. “Of course,” he says, smiling. He rummages around in his pack for a minute before coming up with the jar he transferred it to last night.  
Again, Arthur is surprised at how gentle Merlin is. Were his hands always so soft? He shakes his head slightly, trying to shake his thoughts back into their normal pattern.   
Merlin finishes with the ointment, his hand lingering on Arthur's for a second longer than necessary before he wrenches himself away. “Goodnight, Arthur,” he says, disappearing before Arthur can say anything else.  
Arthur wrestles with the irrational disappointment. There’s no reason for Merlin to stay in his tent tonight. It’s not cold and Merlin isn’t soaked. He’ll probably be more comfortable in his own bedroll. Arthur climbs grumpily into bed and turns over a few times, trying to get comfortable.  
Again, he sleeps badly. His dreams are of Merlin again, and when he wakes, he half expects Merlin to be here with him, but of course, Merlin is probably fast asleep in his own bed.  
Arthur is in a bad mood in the morning, courtesy of two nights of little sleep, but he tries his best no to snap at Merlin. He still remembers the guilt from the last time he did it, and wants to avoid a repeat of the experience.  
The day gets better as Merlin prattles on as usual. Arthur finds himself smiling and laughing, amused and exasperated in equal measures. Gwaine spends a good hour trying to persuade poor Merlin to drink with him until Arthur finally tells him to lay off. The last thing he needs is an inebriated Merlin when they’re trying to hunt.   
Nothing very interesting happens until mid-afternoon when they hear the screech of some beast – coming from the north-east. Arthur doesn’t believe in coincidences; surely, this is the creature of magic they are looking for. He looks over his shoulder at his knights; they have gone from laughing and joking to tense with concentration. Merlin looks nothing short of petrified.  
“Arthur, we should go back,” he whispers.  
“We’re not going back, Merlin,” Arthur says, rolling his eyes.   
“No, you don’t understand,” Merlin says, riding his horse up close to Arthur's. “I recognise that call, it’s another questing beast!”  
Arthur dimly remembers the last questing beast. It was a fearsome monster – surely it would bring great honour to him and all of his men, taking another one down. “Good, I like a challenge,” he says.   
“No, Arthur, please!” Merlin says, looking perfectly desperate. “One bite from the questing –”  
“Stay back if you’re afraid, Merlin,” Arthur says shortly, cutting him off.   
I’m not afraid for myself, you clotpole! Merlin wants to yell at Arthur, but he knows it will do no good. The best he can do is stay close and protect Arthur… he shudders as the memories from the last time threaten to overwhelm him.  
The sounds of the questing beast get louder – clearly is has caught their scent and is coming to attack. Arthur and his knights ready their spears. Merlin catches a glimpse of the questing beast running at full tilt towards them before Arthur yells “Charge!” and Merlin is caught up in the insanity.  
He barely watches the beast; his eyes are on Arthur. As the knights get closer, spears start to fly, but none finds their mark – the beast twists and leaps, avoiding the missiles with unnatural grace. It swipes at the centre of the horses and the knights scatter. Arthur veers off to the left, Merlin right on his heels. The beast’s claws scythe down Arthur's horse, which trips up Merlin's. The two of them fall in a heap on the ground, about ten feet away from each other.  
The knights are scattered, none of them see their prince in trouble. The beast rears up before him and Merlin has a flashback of the last time, that terrible time when Arthur almost died. Arthur is conscious this time, though, but Merlin has no choice.  
He doesn’t even think about it, really. The words slip out of his mouth and his hand thrusts forward.   
Time seems to stop. Arthur stares as the questing beast flies backwards through the air, landing on its back some twenty feet away. With one angry hiss at the party, it leaps to its feet and runs away into the forest.  
Arthur is less than worried about the questing beast, though. Three thoughts make their way through the shock.  
Merlin is a sorcerer.  
Merlin lied to him.  
Uther will kill Merlin if he ever finds out.  
Arthur shoves the shock aside to deal with later. Merlin no doubt had reason for lying – probably afraid someone else would find out and have him burned at the stake. However annoyed Arthur is, Merlin is still his best friend and they can deal with the lies later. The much bigger concern for Arthur is the third thought: his father.   
He sees the knights making their way towards him and Merlin. He trusts them with his life… but he can’t be sure one of them wouldn’t feel obliged to go to the king with information on a sorcerer.   
Arthur turns to Merlin, who cringes away, as though he expects Arthur to strike him. “Stay down,” Arthur hisses. Merlin looks confused, but at least he’s not moving.  
“What happened?” Gwaine yells. “One second it was attacking us and the next it was running like it had the devil at its back!”  
“I attacked it,” Arthur says. “I didn’t get it, but I was pretty close. I think it got scared. It’ll be back, though; we shouldn’t let our guard down. We’ll set up camp in that clearing there and keep watches for it.”  
The knights murmur their agreement and start setting up tents. Merlin is still frozen on the ground as though he’s been glued there. Arthur ignores him, setting up the tent himself. He still isn’t happy with Merlin for not trusting him.   
Finally, the tent is set up and Arthur gestures for Merlin to get inside. Once they are both seated, Arthur fixes Merlin with a piercing stare, intending to tell him just how much of an idiot he is for not telling Arthur about this before.  
The look on Merlin's face brings him up short, though. Merlin is pale as snow and shaking, still looking like he expects to be beheaded any second.  
“Really Merlin, did you honestly think I’d hurt you?” Arthur asks, annoyed.  
Merlin tries to speak, but all that comes out is a squeak. He tries again, his voice coming out hoarse. “You’re… you’re not mad?”  
“Certainly I’m mad! You look like you’re afraid I’m going to hurt you – idiot! Do you really think I would? Your faith in me is touching, Merlin.”  
Merlin gapes at him. “But I have magic.”  
“Yes, Merlin, your little display made that quite clear. Quite frankly, I’m surprised you’ve managed to keep it a secret this long. You’re going to have to be more careful from now on. We don’t know which of the knights are loyal enough to my father to go to him. You can’t let anyone else know about this, alright? If my father finds out about this, we’ll be in trouble. I can only do so much; I can’t overrule the king.”  
“So… you’re not going to banish me, or execute me?”  
“You really are incredibly slow on the uptake today, aren’t you?” Arthur says, exasperated. “No, you idiot, I’m not going to do either of those things. Though I think you have an appointment with the stocks when we get back, for even thinking that I’d hurt you.”  
Merlin opens his mouth to say thank you… and bursts into tears. All the worry about what would happen when Arthur found out, all the guilt over lying to him, all the fear… and here Arthur is, talking about protecting him, saying he’d never hurt him. The relief is so overwhelming that Merlin can’t control himself.  
Arthur looks uncomfortable. “Now, Merlin, there’s nothing to be upset about. Everything is fine. I won’t make you go to the stocks if you’re that distressed about it…”  
At this Merlin only cries harder. “I’m not worried about the stocks, you clotpole! I’m just so relieved… I thought you’d hate me.”  
Keep crying and I will hate you, Arthur wants to say, but he holds his tongue. Merlin looks so fragile, Arthur isn’t sure he can withstand any rough treatment right now. He hesitantly moves closer to Merlin, putting his arm around him. Merlin curls into his side, clutching his short, sobbing.   
Arthur gently strokes Merlin's hair, murmuring in his ear, telling him that it’s ok, that he’s not angry. Eventually, Merlin cries himself out and falls asleep against Arthur's chest. Arthur stares at Merlin’s sleeping face, so peaceful now. He feels oddly protective of the boy, who looks so frail just now. Arthur can hear the knights talking about supper, but he’s happy where he is now with Merlin… Merlin the sorcerer.  
What a wonder. Arthur never would have guessed. He wonders how much Merlin uses his magic every day. Arthur remembers Merlin throwing out his hands, casting the questing beast away. He thought Arthur would execute him for it, but he did it without hesitation to save Arthur's life.   
A warm feeling spreads through Arthur's chest as he watches his sleeping servant. He wonders if Merlin will show him some more magic. He must ask him sometime…


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur is content just to sit with Merlin for a while, but eventually his own eyes start drooping. Not wanting to wake Merlin, he leans over and grabs his pillow and blanket, making himself as comfortable as he can on the floor.   
Merlin shifts slightly in his sleep, his hands curling around Arthur's shirt. Arthur allows Merlin to pull closer to him, slightly uncomfortable not with the closeness, but in the comfort he finds in it. He and Merlin have always been in close proximity to each other, of course – Merlin has to help him dress, after all – but something about this seems different. Merlin looks so vulnerable, not at all his usual bouncy self.  
Arthur wakes with a sore neck from sleeping on the floor, Merlin still curled into him. He can feel Merlin's steady breathing through Merlin's back against his chest. Arthur curls his hand stealthily around Merlin's arm. He isn’t going to let Merlin run off this time.  
Merlin wakes as the sounds of the knights breaking camp start up outside. As Arthur expects, he starts as soon as he realises where he is and tries to jerk away. Arthur keeps a tight grip on him.  
“Merlin, relax. It’s alright. There’s no need to look so panicked.”  
Merlin's wide eyes meet Arthur's, moving from panicked to confused. “Last night,” Merlin mutters. “Last night – why were you so nice to me?”  
Arthur frowns. “Would you prefer I shouted? You’re – you’re by best friend, Merlin,” he says, pushing the words out before he can lose his nerve. Arthur isn’t usually great with expressing his feelings, but clearly he needs to put more effort in – if Merlin thought Arthur was going to have him executed, Arthur obviously needs to be a bit clearer.  
Merlin doesn’t say anything, and Arthur has the most peculiar feeling that this wasn’t the answer Merlin was hoping for, but he’s too sore and tired to be figuring out his servant’s strange mood right now. He rubs his neck absently.   
“You slept on the floor,” Merlin says. It isn’t a question.  
“If I moved you would have woken up,” Arthur says.  
Without a word, Merlin twists around to start massaging Arthur's neck. Arthur's head rolls back and he moans slightly.  
“Am I hurting you?” Merlin's anxious voice is right by his ear.  
“No, keep doing that,” Arthur says, vaguely aware that Merlin has massaged him before, and this doesn’t feel the same at all. Has Merlin been practicing on other people? Surely his fingers weren’t always this skilful…  
Merlin is the first one to move, because Arthur certainly isn’t going to be moving anywhere voluntarily while Merlin is doing that. Merlin makes to get up, but Arthur grabs his hand, pulling him back into the mess of blankets and pillows they are sitting in, not quite ready for him to leave yet.  
Merlin doesn’t look like he is going to consent to stay, so Arthur hurries to distract him. “Will you show me some more magic?” he blurts out.   
Merlin looks taken aback, but after a second, smiles warmly. “What do you want to see?”  
Arthur shrugs. “Anything, I guess.”  
Merlin glances around the tent before fixing his gaze on Arthur's pack. He whispers a word Arthur can’t hear and his eyes glow gold for a second. The pack lifts up, as though carried by an invisible hand, and zooms towards them. Merlin digs out an apple and hands it to a gaping Arthur.  
“Amazing,” Arthur murmurs. Merlin shoves the apple into his mouth, laughing. His hand lingers for just a second on Arthur's face and Arthur unconsciously leans into the touch, but then Merlin jerks his hand away as though burned. “I’ll get your horse ready,” he says, slipping out of the tent, Arthur's mouth too full of apple to call him back.  
As they start riding – still following the compass – Merlin rides just behind Arthur as usual, talking nonsense as usual. Merlin watches Arthur's back broodingly. Usually, he’s so sure of Arthur, but recently he’s been acting in a way that Merlin doesn’t really understand. One second he’ll be yelling at Merlin for no good reason, and the next he’ll be comforting Merlin and sleeping on the floor just so that he doesn’t wake him up.  
Merlin thinks about the two nights he’s spent with Arthur. Though the memories are tinged with the pain of knowing that these nights will never mean the same thing to Arthur as they do to Merlin, Merlin can’t help remembering how warm and strong Arthur felt beside him, how it felt to have Arthur's arms wrapped around him…  
Merlin is jerked out of his daydreaming by raised voices in front of him. Looking up, he sees that Arthur is having an argument with Gwaine. It appears to be nothing more than the usual – Gwaine trying to get the whole hunting party drunk and Arthur refusing – much to Merlin's gratitude; he still remembers the headache the day after the last time he was subjected to Gwaine's whims.   
Arthur seems to be getting a lot more upset about it than he should. Merlin sighs. He just doesn’t get Arthur recently; he seemed perfectly happy this morning, but now he’s letting Gwaine, of all people, get to him. Merlin rolls his eyes.   
Arthur starts to get really invested in the argument, and Merlin can see that Gwaine is offended at being treated like – well, like Merlin. Merlin is used to Arthur when he’s being all prattish, used to getting hurt sometimes, but Arthur usually shows more respect for his knights.   
The argument escalates until both men are shouting. The knights exchange nervous glances, wondering if they should intervene. It proves unnecessary, though; Arthur spurs his horse forward and gallops off, leaving the rest of the knights behind him. Needless to say, Merlin follows.  
Merlin doesn’t try to catch up with Arthur, following behind and giving his prince space. Finally, when the horse looks like it’s about to drop, he slows and abruptly jumps off, staggering slightly as the impact jars him. Merlin watches Arthur out of the corner of his eye as he starts setting up Arthur's tent, then his own. The knights will follow their trail and make camp with them when they arrive.  
Arthur stalks into his tent as soon as Merlin has it up, and Merlin makes to follow, but Arthur's angry shout has him backing away. “Leave me alone, Merlin!” Of course, Merlin could have ignored the order, but Arthur sounds son angry, and Merlin doesn’t want to be shouted at today. He settles down to reading in his own tent, waiting to hear sounds of the other knights approaching, though they are surely hours away.  
Arthur sits in his tent, restless. He would like to pace, but of course, the travelling tent is way too small for that. He’s not sure why he’s so upset – he can barely even remember what he and Gwaine were arguing about – but his eyes prickle uncomfortably.   
He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him – since when does he speak to his knights like that? It’s this stupid thing with Merlin, he knows it. Arthur grinds his teeth. Though he doesn’t know what’s suddenly gotten him so confused about Merlin, he’s sure it’s the servant’s fault. Of course Arthur's in a bad mood – he doesn’t understand anything anymore. Why it suddenly feels so comforting to have Merlin close, why he feels bad for being horrible to him…  
He’s already regretting shouting at Merlin. Even if it is Merlin's fault in the first place, Arthur needs a friend right now, someone to make him laugh and get over his silly argument. Someone to call him a prat and tell him to get over himself.  
He wishes Merlin would ignore his orders as usual and come into his tent, but there is no sign of movement. Arthur groans and rolls over, trying to go to sleep. He’s too upset to sleep. “Oh for goodness sake, Arthur, just go call Merlin if you want him,” he mutters to himself, but makes no move for the tent entrance. Arthur has never hesitated to ask Merlin to clean his chain mail or muck out his horses, but he doesn’t need any of those things right now. What will he say when Merlin asks why he wants him? It’s not like Arthur can admit that he wants a friend to comfort him. The very thought makes him cringe inwardly.   
Arthur sits there, warring with himself. Finally, he dismisses his unacceptable cowardice and crawls out of his tent. When he opens Merlin's tent flap, he sees Merlin reading, totally immersed in the book. Merlin looks up expectantly. Arthur opens his mouth, but no words come out. He can’t ask him, he can’t! But Merlin is looking at him and Arthur has to say something.  
“Can you – can you come to my tent, Merlin?” he asks softly.  
“Do you need something, Arthur?”  
Arthur can feel his face going red. “No, nothing really – I just – never mind…”  
He hastily retreats, having made a complete fool of himself. Merlin follows, almost without thinking about it. Arthur seems so scared and vulnerable, and Merlin realises that he’s never openly asked for Merlin's presence, just to be with him. It’s always clean this or mend that, but to see Arthur asking for him – so unsure of himself – warms Merlin's heart.  
Arthur is still bright red, but he looks pleased when Merlin crawls into his tent behind him.   
“Are you ok?” Merlin asks. He goes to sit next to Arthur, their shoulders shrugging.  
Very slowly, Arthur shakes his head. Merlin knows the monumental effort that went into the simple gesture, so easy for anyone else, but not for Arthur, who had never admitted to not being alright, not once in his life.  
“What’s wrong?” Merlin whispers, almost afraid he’ll scare Arthur away if he talks too loudly. He looks so young right now, Merlin thinks fondly.  
Arthur just shrugs, either unwilling or unable to communicate his problem. Hesitantly, knowing that it will cause him pain later, Merlin twines his hand with Arthur's. Arthur sighs, seeming to relax very slightly. Merlin will take whatever pain there is later, so long as Arthur feels better.   
Arthur turns his head away so that he’s not looking at Merlin, and when he speaks, his voice is so soft Merlin has to strain to hear. “I’m confused, Merlin,” he admits. “Things don’t make sense anymore. I don’t know…”  
This certainly tallies with Arthur's recent behaviour. For the last few months, Arthur hasn’t made any sense to Merlin, either, but Merlin doesn’t think this will be helpful, so he doesn’t say anything. Arthur seems to have said all he is able to say, for shortly afterwards his eyes start drooping as the stress of the day sets in. Merlin can’t reach his pillow, so he lets Arthur's head rest on his lap, stroking the golden hair as his prince sleeps.  
When the rest of the knights arrive, Arthur goes out and makes a formal apology to Gwaine. Gwaine is apparently over their argument already; he roars with laughter and promises to buy Arthur a drink when they get back.   
Merlin brings Arthur's food to him in his tent and again Arthur shares his supper. Merlin makes to get up, but he sees that strange vulnerability in Arthur's eyes again, and sits back down. He won’t make Arthur ask him to stay; he’s already had a hard day. Merlin settles down to sleep on the floor without further comment.  
The next day, they find the questing beast.  
It seems to live in some sort of tunnel or cave, but they never get inside – it is waiting for them at the mouth. The knights attack, Arthur in the lead, yelling and brandishing spears. The questing beast is quick, but not quick enough, not when it hasn’t taken the knights by surprise.  
Lancelot lands a spear in its flank, which slows it, if not stops it. Arthur throws his spear, but it just grazes the beast’s side, and it turns angrily towards him.   
Merlin should have used magic, even though it was in front of the other knights. He acted without thinking, though, ramming his horse into Arthur's, forcing him aside. The beast’s teeth sink into his left arm.  
He yells in pain, but it’s only for a moment. Taking advantage of the beast’s distraction, the other knights quickly take it down. Merlin feels the poison of the questing beast spreading quickly inside him. He is vaguely aware of falling to the ground and Arthur's frantic voice. His prince is kneeling over him, shouting his name.  
Merlin knows it’s too late for him, knows there’s no cure for the bite of the questing beast. He tries to focus his eyes on Arthur's face. If he’s going to die, he wants to tell him. “Arthur…”  
“Don’t talk, Merlin, don’t use your energy. You’re going to be fine, just fine.” Arthur's voice is much higher than usual and he is talking very fast.  
Merlin takes a laboured breath, trying to speak. “Arthur, I – ” He breaks off with a fit of coughing. Arthur tries to soothe him, rubbing his hand over Merlin's chest. “I love you.” Merlin can’t see, can’t tell if Arthur has heard him or not. His lungs fail, and his head is spinning. He can vaguely hear Arthur's frantic voice as he spirals into blackness.


	4. Chapter 4

“Merlin!” Arthur's throat seems it’s going to rip apart, he’s shouting so loudly, but he can’t bring himself to stop screaming Merlin's name. He shakes his servant, though he knows it’s never good to shake an injured person. “Wake up!” Arthur yells, hardly noticing the tears in his eyes. “Merlin!”  
Then arms are trying to pull him away, voices saying there’s nothing more he can do, but Arthur is fighting savagely. “No, he’s NOT dead, do you hear me? See, he’s got a pulse!”  
“Sire, there is no cure for –”  
I was bitten by the questing beast once, Leon, and Gaius healed me! He’ll do the same for Merlin. We have to get him back, now!”  
Arthur tries to get up, but his legs are too shaky, and his hands don’t seem to want to release Merlin. He falls back to the ground, staring at the boy’s pale face. The words were whispered, barely audible, but Arthur heard them. Of course, it had to happen like that. Of course things had to make sense when there was no point in it. Of course, Arthur would only realise he loves Merlin when Merlin is dying.  
All of the confusion suddenly makes sense. Arthur realises that he’s been falling for his manservant without ever realising it. Now that it is too late to make a difference, now is when he finally recognises all the strange and confusing feelings for what they are. It makes no difference that Merlin feels the same way, not when Merlin is lying before him as though dead.  
He never even got to tell Merlin how he feels.  
Arthur struggles to get up, ignoring his shaking limbs. He wants to ask for help, but Merlin is the only one he can ask for help – Arthur, who never asks anyone for help – and Merlin is unconscious in his arms.   
Gritting his teeth, Arthur focuses on Gaius. Gaius will heal Merlin, like he healed Arthur. Clearly, the bite of the questing beast does have a cure, or Arthur would not be standing here right now.  
“We need to get back to Camelot at once,” Arthur says, not looking at his knights, not wanting them to see his tears.   
No one says anything, for which Arthur is grateful. He is barely holding himself together as it is; he feels as though one word could shatter him. Why, why did Merlin have to say he loves Arthur now? If he never did, Arthur would never have realised he was in love with Merlin too, and his sanity would not currently be hanging by a thread. He would not be unsure as to whether he can remain strong enough to help Merlin.  
Even years later, Arthur will barely remember the ride back to Camelot. He has all the knights give him their horses, leaving them to walk back. Arthur rotates horses, not stopping once to eat or sleep, though it is three day’s ride from Camelot. He chugs water from the skin on the saddle, but even that tastes like dirt.  
When Arthur arrives at Camelot, he feels barely human. For once, he is glad of Morgana's presence as she runs down the steps to meet him. She pries his hands off Merlin – a feat in itself – and hands him over to guards, who carry him upstairs much faster than Arthur could in his current state. Then Morgana takes his hand and leads him up to Gaius’ chambers, not giving him any grief about how he should rest and wash.  
She sits at his back while Gaius examines Merlin. When he looks up, Arthur is shocked to see Gaius glaring at him. “He’s been bitten by a questing beast.”  
“Yes,” Arthur says impatiently. “And it’s barely breathing, in case you hadn’t noticed! You need to make him the antidote at once!”  
“There is no antidote for the bite of the questing beast,” Gaius says with shocking finality.  
Arthur grips the table as the room spins. “No, that’s not true,” he says, trying to stay calm. “When I was bitten by the questing beast, you found an antidote. Give the same thing to Merlin. Please Gaius, just help him.”  
The last sentence was spoken in a broken whisper as Arthur reaches for Merlin's hand.  
Gaius’ expression softens, but his words are like blows to Arthur's heart. “There is no cure, Arthur,” he says gently. “When you were bitten by the questing beast, Merlin went to the Isle of the Blessed and trades his life for yours. Only a priestess of the old religion can give a life back once it is as far gone as yours was then – as Merlin's is now. Merlin survived only because of Nimeuh’s trickery.”  
Arthur is only still for a heartbeat before he is no his feet again. “Which way to the Isle of the Blessed?”  
“Arthur, it’s too –”  
Arthur is drawing his sword, vaguely recognising that he’s out of control, but not able to stop. “Give me a map, Gaius,” he growls, and though he wouldn’t hurt the physician, Gaius is backing away from the sword pointed at him. He fumbles in a drawer behind him and hands Arthur a folded piece of paper with a shaking hand.   
“Keep him alive,” Arthur says shortly before running from the room.   
His knights must have been waiting outside the door, for they are suddenly all around Arthur. “I’ll need five horses and supplies for a journey,” he says, never breaking stride. If they are saying anything, their words turn to mush in his ears. Clearly, they must have obeyed instructions, as five strong looking horses are waiting for him.   
“You’re all to stay here and give Gaius anything he needs,” Arthur says, his eyes flickering unseeingly over the men crowded round him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  
He doesn’t wait for them to offer to come with him. He knows they can’t be allowed anywhere near the Isle of the Blessed. Arthur knows his knights are loyal to him, but if they realised what he was planning to do, they would stop him, and without Merlin and his magic, Arthur won’t be able to overpower all of them…  
Further thoughts of Merlin threaten to send him spiralling into panic and he spurs the horse he is riding to a gallop, the others following behind. Gaius managed to keep him alive after he was bitten by the questing beast, long enough for Merlin to get back. Surely, he can do the same for Merlin?  
Arthur spurs the horses faster.  
He’s not sure how long it takes him to get to the Isle of the Blessed. The sun sets and rises… how many times? His brain is too addled with exhaustion and lack of sleep to make much sense of anything. No matter; he won’t need to make sense of things for much longer. All he needs is to get to the isle…  
Arthur leaps into the small boat by the shore and rows across, straining his shaking muscles, knowing that even a second of delay could be a second too late for Merlin.  
When he runs up through the stone archways and sees who is standing by the altar, he is brought up short. “Morgause?”   
She smiles at Arthur as though she’d been expecting him. Arthur doesn’t have time to feel shocked. “Merlin is dying, I need your help. He’s been bitten by a questing beast and I need you to bring him back.”  
She smiles inscrutably at him. “I do not have the power to give a life and take nothing in return.”  
“I know the price,” Arthur says. “Take my life.”  
She laughs softly. “If only it were so simple, my dear. Your life would suffice, yes, if it was a mere servant you wished to save. But Merlin is more than a servant. Yes, you know now, too, I can see it in your face. A powerful warlock like that… it takes more than a life to bargain for his.”  
“What does it take?”  
“The truth,” she hisses, an evil glint in her eyes. “Only the truth you have to give can be more powerful than your life to your young warlock.”  
“I don’t understand,” Arthur says, fighting to stand still. He wants to run at her, to shake her, to tell her to heal Merlin immediately, but senses that this won’t help his case.  
Morgause lifts her arms up to the sky and shouts some words Arthur can’t make sense of. Her eyes glow gold.  
The ground before his feet shimmer… and Merlin appears out of thin air. He is still unconscious, still deathly pale, but he is alive. Despite himself, Arthur drops down to his knees beside him, grabbing his hand. “Merlin, Merlin wake up!” he begs fruitlessly.  
“I can do that, but only you can make it permanent,” Morgause says softly, coming to kneel on the other side of Merlin. Arthur isn’t aware of what she says next, for Merlin's eyes have just opened.   
“Merlin,” he gasps, relief making his head spin.  
“Arthur? What are we doing here?” Merlin's voice is faint and weak, but his eyes are open and Arthur can’t look away from them.   
“He’ll only be awake for a few minutes,” Morgause says. “After that, he’ll fade back into unconsciousness and die shortly afterwards.”  
“Tell me what you want me to do!” Arthur says, still not breaking Merlin's gaze. “I’ll do anything.”  
“You need to tell the truth.”  
“I am telling the truth!” he shouts angrily, tired of her riddles.  
“Why did you come here?” Morgause asks, not seeming perturbed by his anger.  
“To save Merlin – I told you, he was bitten by a questing beast!”  
“Why did you want to save Merlin?”  
“Because he’s my servant.”  
“Tell the truth.”  
“Because he’s my friend.”  
“Tell the truth.”  
Arthur glares at her. “I don’t want him to die, alright?”  
Morgause just looks at him. Arthur can’t believe this. Of all the things in the world he would have to do to save Merlin, how did she manage to pick the one he would have trouble with? His mouth is dry and panic is choking him. He can’t say it, he can’t.  
But Merlin's eyes are beginning to flutter, and he’ll die if Arthur doesn’t say anything.  
Arthur opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.  
“Why didn’t you want Merlin to die?” Morgause asks softly.  
“Because – because I love him.” Arthur's broken whisper is so soft that the wind whisks it away almost at once… but not before Merlin and Morgause hear. Merlin reaches up with his hand, trailing it across Arthur's face, a silly smile on his own lips. There is a flash and Arthur's head jerks up. At his words, a vial of water Morgause was holding suddenly flashed bright gold before turning back into normal water, at least in appearance.  
“He must drink this,” she says, handing it to him.  
Arthur takes it without hesitation and gently lifts Merlin's head. Merlin's eyes are fluttering again and Arthur knows that he has to hurry. He puts the vial to Merlin's lips and gently tips the water in, holding his head up to be sure he swallows.   
Merlin sighs, and his eyes close.  
“Why isn’t he waking up!” Arthur yells, looking at Morgause in panic.  
“He will be fine,” she says in a surprisingly gentle voice. “He’s just sleeping, now. He’ll wake up in a couple of hours, and the two of you can go back to Camelot.”  
Arthur looks at her suspiciously, one of his hands placed protectively over Merlin's chest. “Why are you doing this for us? You’re no friend of Camelot.”  
“And why am I no friend of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon?”  
“You’re a sorceress. My father would have you executed.”  
“Yes, he would, young prince… but you, I think not. Your reign is the only hope for those of us with magic. You can lift the blight Uther has brought upon this land through his madness and hate. If you were to see Merlin die at the hands of magic, it would harden your heart against it forever. I do this so that when you are king, you will see that magic can be used for good as well as evil.  
“Without Merlin, there is no chance for any of us. With him by your side, the two of you will build a kingdom where peace and justice reign. I do this for the future.”  
Arthur just gapes at her, not knowing what to say. Yes, he’s always had his doubts about his father’s views on magic, but to let sorcery have free reign… Yet how can sorcery be evil, when the person he cares about above all is a sorcerer? As Arthur looks into Merlin's face, he can’t bring himself to condemn him – or anyone else – for having magic. When he looks up at Morgause again, he is smiling.  
“Then I look forward to the day when we meet again, no longer enemies.”  
“As do I, Arthur Pendragon,” she says. A mist seems to be forming before her and Arthur thinks she mutters something, but he’s not sure. The next thing he knows, both he and Merlin are back with his horses on the other side of the lake. Morgause has even conjured up a cosy tent around them.  
Arthur quickly tucks Merlin into about a dozen blankets and sits worriedly, waiting for him to wake up. He’s too exhausted to keep it up for long, though. Soon Arthur's eyes are drooping and without ever fully deciding to, he is lying down next to Merlin, wrapping his arms around him as he drifts off.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur is having a wonderful dream about Merlin when something sharp pokes him in the ribs. “Go away,” he mutters, trying to recapture the dream.   
“Wake up, you prat, I want to know where we are.”  
Arthur sits up so fast his head spins and he has to lean on the tent wall to stop himself from falling over. “Merlin!” he yells, his eyes wide, taking in his pale but alive servant. Without thinking, he throws his arms around him. Merlin laughs as he hugs Arthur back.  
“Right, now it’s time to tell me what I missed,” he says, pulling away. Arthur allows the separation, but grabs Merlin's hand, holding it tightly on his lap. Merlin doesn’t look surprised.  
“You remember, then?” Arthur says.  
“I remember you saying you loved me,” Merlin says, a dreamy expression in his eyes. “Not much else, though.”  
“Well, you were bitten by the questing beast…”  
“WHAT?”  
“And I had to save you,” Arthur says, continuing as though there had been no interruption. “I took you to the Isle of the Blessed –”  
“Arthur, are you INSNAE? Whose life did you trade?”  
“No one’s – Morgause demanded the truth as a price; I told her the truth – that… that I love you,” Arthur says, still struggling to get the words out, not meeting Merlin's eyes. “She healed you, no life required.”  
“You were going to give your life, weren’t you?” Merlin asks quietly.   
Arthur meets his gaze. “Yes, of course I was.”  
“Arthur, you dollophead, you can’t just go doing things like that! Your life is much more important than mine, you’re the future –”  
Arthur has had enough of Merlin's protests, so he silences them with a kiss.   
Merlin had intended to go on at great length about what a prat Arthur is and thoroughly berate him for his foolishness, but his body responds to Arthur, washing all logical arguments away. He throws himself into the kiss with such force that Arthur is pushed onto his back. Arthur doesn’t seem to mind a bit.  
Merlin's hands are pulling at Arthur's clothing, itching to touch his skin, itching to feel it as he has been fantasizing about for years. Arthur lifts up his torso so that Merlin can pull his shirt off, then kicks off his breeches. Merlin is gasping as he sheds his own clothing and throws himself back on top of Arthur.  
Their erections rub against each other and Arthur is whimpering, begging for more. Merlin attacks his mouth as his hands reach slowly downwards, caressing Arthur's muscular chest. His fingers find a nipple and tease it gently as Arthur throws his head back. Merlin's body is on fire, but some part of his mind is telling him to stop, to slow down.  
“Arthur?”  
“Don’t stop,” Arthur pleads.  
“You’ve never been with a man, have you?”  
Arthur shakes his head, not even thinking to question how Merlin knows. “Please, Merlin,” he gasps, hitching his hips up so that their erections rub harder.   
“We should take this slowly,” Merlin says reluctantly. “We’ve only just admitted we love each other. We’ve got plenty of time.” It takes great effort to say the words in spite of his protesting body, but Merlin won’t hurt Arthur for anything, especially for his own pleasure.  
“No, Merlin, I need you now!” Arthur says, pulling Merlin down harder onto his chest. He kisses his servant frantically, getting more desperate every second.   
“Arthur, I don’t want to hurt you…”  
“Please,” he begs. “Please, Merlin.”  
Merlin looks into his eyes and sees no uncertainty there, only love and trust.  
“Ok,” he says. Arthur's eyes dilate even further as Merlin leans in, their mouths clashing ferociously. Merlin moves his mouth down, trailing wet kisses over Arthur's chest until he gets to his right nipple. Arthur gasps loudly when Merlin takes it into his mouth, writhing beneath his touch. Arthur's response only makes Merlin even harder and he has to hold himself back, forcing himself to take his time with this.  
He puts his hands firmly on Arthur's hips as his head moves down. His nose tickles Arthur's pubic hair as his hands cup his balls. Merlin shudders, trying to hold himself in check. He gently kisses Arthur's penis, wringing a yell out of the older boy. Arthur jerks upwards, desperate for the firmer pressure Merlin is deliberately withholding.  
Finally, when it seems Arthur can take no more, Merlin takes him into his mouth. Arthur is beyond caring about the sounds he is making, beyond thinking, totally helpless to the sensations sweeping through him. Merlin's tongue caresses his length and Arthur's whole body shudders.   
“Merlin,” Arthur gasps. “Merlin…”  
Merlin is far from done, though.  
With a flick of his hand, a bottle of oil materialises. Arthur whimpers as Merlin pulls away, slicking his hands with oil, rubbing them together to warm it up. Merlin moves slowly back up to Arthur's chest, licking teasingly at his nipples. His hand slowly moves towards Arthur's tight entrance, gently caressing and rubbing until Arthur is begging again.  
Merlin slips one finger inside, and Arthur tenses for a second. “Are you ok?” Merlin asks quietly.  
Arthur nods, his eyes closed, his mouth seeking Merlin's. “Yes. Go on.”  
Merlin leans down to kiss him as he pushes his finger further. At first, Arthur is stiff and still, but as Merlin gently begins to move his finger, Arthur starts to moan again, getting louder and louder every second. Merlin adds another finger and this time Arthur doesn’t stiffen but pushes closer to Merlin, all needy and panting.  
By the time Merlin has three fingers inside Arthur, both of them are covered in sweat and panting. Merlin isn’t sure how much more of this he can take, and it is clear Arthur feels the same way. As Merlin thrusts his fingers in and out with increasing pace, he hits Arthur's spot, sending him into further waves of ecstasy.   
Merlin knows that they are both close, so he pulls out. Arthur thrusts towards him, trying to keep Merlin inside, but Merlin just chuckles softly. “Be patient, love.”  
He positions himself above Arthur and looks into the other boy’s eyes. “This will hurt, Arthur. Are you sure you want to do this?”  
Arthur, though, is beyond caring about pain, beyond coherency. He nods his head and mumbles something that Merlin doesn’t think is even English. He leans forward to kiss Arthur's lips, softly, tenderly.  
Slowly, he pushes himself inside Arthur. Arthur tenses up and his nails dig into Merlin's arms. “It’s alright, it’s ok,” Merlin mumbles soothingly, rubbing on Arthur's nipples and kissing him. By the time Arthur is panting again he has forgotten about the pain. Merlin starts to move, very slowly.  
Arthur gasps, but stays relaxed. Merlin continues to move, agonisingly slowly, worried about hurting Arthur.   
“Faster,” Arthur gasps. “Merlin – faster – go –”  
Merlin doesn’t need any more encouragement than that – he is barely holding himself back as it is, not sure if he can last much longer.  
He starts to rock backwards and forwards, increasing the pace. Arthur's hips rise up to meet Merlin, and now Merlin is yelling, too. Their voices intermingle, a chorus of passion filling their small tent. Merlin is so close now, he is shaking. He looks down and sees Arthur's penis, thick and red and swollen. He takes it in his hand just as he claims Arthur's lips with his own. All it takes is one stroke.  
Arthur cries out and bucks upwards, white fluid shooting from him, covering Merlin's chest.  
As Arthur's muscles tighten around Merlin, Merlin can’t take any more and he is coming too, shouting Arthur's name as he has dreamed of doing so many times. The power of the orgasm leaves him completely drained and he flops down onto Arthur's chest, panting, trying to get his breath back.  
He finally recovers enough energy to pull out of Arthur and lies down beside him. His eyes are closed, but he can feel Arthur's arms around him.   
“That was amazing,” Arthur whispers in his ear. “You’re amazing.”  
“You were pretty amazing, too,” Merlin says, grinning.   
Arthur sighs, and in that moment, neither of them needs words. They lie in each other’s arms, completely at peace with the world for the first time in so many years – perhaps forever.  
Arthur's hands start trailing over Merlin's nipples and he feels himself begin to fill again.  
“We’re not going to get much sleep tonight, are we?” he asks, turning around so that his face and Arthur's are inches apart.  
In answer, Arthur presses their lips together in a fiery kiss.

One week later, the prince and his servant ride back into Camelot. The king is in a rage, not knowing where his son has disappeared to, but thankfully Gaius has thought up a story for them – luckily, he is in time to tell Merlin before he and Arthur have to face an irate Uther.  
“I’m sorry, father, but we had no choice,” Arthur says earnestly. “When we discovered the questing beast had a mate, the rest of the knights had already ridden ahead. It was heading for the nearest town – I couldn’t just let it go. Merlin was the only person with me; together we chased the questing beast and slew it.”  
“And you didn’t think to send your servant back to call for the knights’ aid?” Uther asks in a booming voice.  
“He was injured, sire,” Gaius says swiftly. “He needed Merlin to help him along.”  
“Is this true?”  
Merlin is very glad that Uther is looking at Arthur; his throat constricts with fear at the thought of lying to the king.   
“Yes, sire,” Arthur says. The knights are standing all around – none of them were warned of the story, but Arthur trusts them to back him up.  
Finally, they are released and they walk side by side out of the hall, towards Arthur's chambers.  
“So,” says Arthur casually, “we’ll need to find an excuse for moving you into my chambers.”  
“We will?” A grin spreads across Merlin's face. A small, insecure part of him had been wondering if what they shared near the Isle of the Blessed would stay there.   
“If you want to, that is,” Arthur says, blushing. “Of course, you get a choice in all this.”  
Merlin's hand finds Arthur's. “Of course I want to,” he says.  
Arthur doesn’t wait for any more confirmation. Without even checking if there’s anyone watching, he grabs Merlin under the knees and pulls him into his arms. Arthur carries Merlin the rest of the way to his chambers before laying him gently on the bed.  
His eyes ravish Merlin's body, so that Merlin is blushing, even though he is still fully clothed. “I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out I’m in love with you,” Arthur says.  
“Yes, well, you always a bit slow.”  
Arthur's eyes flash. “You’re going to pay for that, Merlin.” His gaze is playful as he crawls onto the bed, stalking Merlin like a predator. Merlin is the first to pounce, pinning Arthur on his stomach, his hands roaming over the muscular back.   
Arthur rolls over so that they are facing each other and neither hesitates to smash their lips together, gasping as fire rakes through their bodies.  
So they take up where they left off in the tent.


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin wakes up to an elbow in his ribs. “What?” he mumbles.  
“Shut up and hide,” Arthur hisses.   
Merlin looks around blearily as Arthur pushes him off the bed, urging him underneath with his foot. Still half asleep, Merlin vaguely registers someone knocking insistently on the door. “Just a minute!” Arthur shouts, the stress apparent in his voice. He makes sure the covers of his bed are trailing right down to the floor before going to open the door.   
“Finally,” Morgana says, flouncing in and giving Arthur a dark look. “You’re not very quick-witted in the mornings, are you?”  
“What is it, Morgana?” Arthur asks wearily. Merlin flushes with guilt. After all, it’s his fault that Arthur hardly got any sleep last night.   
“I came to warn you about your father’s plans, just so that you don’t have a heart attack when he tells you in person,” she says, throwing herself onto a chair.  
“Um, ok? What’s going on?”  
“He plans to have you married,” she says simply.   
Merlin feels as though a bucket of icy water has been thrown over his insides. Of course, he and Arthur knew that something like this would happen eventually… but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Arthur is silent, but Merlin can almost feel him paling from the other side of the room, and wishes that he could go to him, to try to give comfort where there can be none.  
“Her name is princess Mithian,” Morgana goes on obliviously. “She’ll be here later today.” Her voice softens a bit. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I only just found out now.”  
She waits a minute to let the news sink in before continuing in a more business-like tone. “Now, we have very little time to plan, but we should probably make the best of it. Your father will probably react very badly to you refusing to go through with the marriage, so the best option is –”  
“Hang on,” Arthur says, still struggling to take in the enormity of the disaster. “What are you talking about?”  
“Well, obviously we need some way to get you out of the marriage,” Morgana says with the air of stating the obvious to an ignorant child. “Oh, Merlin, you may want to come out for this, too – we’ll need your help if this is to work.”  
“Morgana, what are you talking about?” Arthur says, his voice rising in worry. “Merlin isn’t here, he’ll be bringing me breakfast shortly.  
“There’s no need to lie to me, Arthur,” she says in an annoyed tone. “I’ve known about you and Merlin for years, did you really think I’d not notice when the two of you actually opened your eyes?”  
Arthur splutters incoherently.   
“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone,” Morgana says. “Now come out from wherever you’re hiding, Merlin.”  
Not seeing what harm it can do now, Merlin crawls out from under the bed. He awkwardly dresses with his back to Morgana before joining her and Arthur at the table, not meeting her eyes.  
“As I was saying,” Morgana continues, still in that bizarrely matter of fact tone, “our best option is to find some way of making Mithian want to break the engagement. It won’t be easy – she wants to please her father as well – but I’m sure we can manage it.   
“Of course, Arthur can’t discourage her himself – Uther would notice that – but I think if we can get her to fall for someone else, she’ll be happy to cancel the wedding.”  
“Your brilliant plan is to make her fall in love with someone else?” Merlin blurts out. “How are you going to do that?”  
“I’m not going to, Merlin, you are. I don’t know enough yet to do it myself, and we don’t want to take risks here. I talked to Gaius – he said it’s a really simple spell, one you’re most certainly –”  
Arthur chokes on the sip of water he was taking. “Exactly how much do you know?” he gasps as Merlin hits him on the back.  
“I know everything, Arthur,” Morgana says in a slightly condescending voice. “Now, the love spell is the tricky bit. The problem is I don’t particularly want to send Mithian home in disgrace, and I don’t imagine you do, either. The only way we can pull this off without anyone getting hurt is to make Mithian fall in love with another prince, one who she can marry without shame.”  
Merlin is mouthing soundlessly at her.   
“It’s all sorted,” Morgana goes on smoothly. “I have all the necessary – one of prince Henry’s hairs, from the blanket he used last time he was here – thank goodness it hasn’t been washed since then. Merlin, all you need is to create the poultices, put one under Mithian's pillow, the other under Henry’s. They’ll fall madly in love with each other, get married, and everyone will be happy.”  
Merlin sees a few gaping holes in this plan, but Arthur is the first one to point them out. “Morgana, prince Henry isn’t here, how is Merlin supposed to get to him in time?”  
“I’m sure Kilgharrah will be happy to help,” Morgana says dismissively. “Merlin can be back in a few days.”  
Merlin and Arthur exchange shocked looks. Exactly where does Morgana get her information from? She is currently looking at them with something between pity and amusement. “Honestly, just because Uther is blind doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” she says. “The two of you aren’t exactly subtle – and you know how bad Merlin is at keeping secrets.”  
“How many people know –?”  
“All the knights know about you and Merlin. Only a couple know about Merlin's magic – Lancelot, Gwaine and Leon. Lancelot knows about Kilgharrah, so I assume he’s told the other two. Oh, and of course Gwen knows everything Lancelot knows.”  
“But – but they never said –”  
“Of course not, Arthur, we all know how clever you and Merlin think you are. Why not let you think you were doing a great job of hiding everything? But there’s no time for that now. Merlin, you’d better get going – Gaius will have found the correct spell for you by now.”  
“Hang on,” Arthur says as Merlin makes to get up. “Even if this does work, this won’t be the end, Morgana, you know that. Father will expect me to marry eventually, even if it’s not to Mithian.”  
“Gaius and I have a plan,” she says. “You’re right, getting rid of Mithian is just a temporary fix. Once she’s gone, we’ll have time to fake an illness or something. Then Gaius can save your life in the nick of time, but regretfully pronounce you infertile or in some other way unfit for marriage. Uther will have to listen eventually – if Gaius makes it sound like your life is in danger, he’ll protect you, even if he doesn’t like it.  
“Of course, we should probably have done this sooner, but you two are so cute when you think you’ve got everyone fooled, I couldn’t bear to break the spell yet,” she says, grinning.  
Arthur and Merlin are still gaping at her. Seemingly completely unaffected by their shock, Merlin nudges Merlin out of his chair and starts chivvying him towards the door.  
“Morgana,” Arthur calls as she makes to walk out. She turns at the door. “Thank you,” he says, sincerity in every syllable. Her face melts into a beautiful smile. “I’d do anything for you, Arthur, you know that. And you’d do the same for me. You may still have to – I’ve no intention of being married off to some foreign lord I don’t know.”  
With that she hurries out after Merlin, leaving Arthur pondering how he ever earned the unwavering loyalty of so many people.

To their great surprise, the plan goes off without a hitch. Kilgharrah finds the whole situation extremely amusing, but agrees to fly Merlin to prince Henry’s household. From there it is rather simple to plant the poultice and watch it do its work. Within three days of Mithian arriving at Camelot, Henry has joined her and the two of them are declaring their undying love for each other.  
Within a week, they have both left, and Merlin and Arthur are alone once more. They spend hours brainstorming with Gaius about what disease to give Arthur.   
Finally, they give him a mild poison that has him looking like death itself. When Uther is suitably frantic, Gaius delivers the cure, as well as the terrible news: the sickness inside Arthur will never truly leave him. The symptoms can be controlled, but he is never to have close contact with women, for such contact would surely send him back to his near-death state, and Gaius isn’t sure he can save him the next time.  
Merlin has to shove his fist in his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. He’s half afraid that Uther will recognise the pile of rubbish for what it is, but Morgana was right – when afraid for Arthur's life, he won’t take any chances.   
Finally, Uther leaves, considerably dejected, pondering issues such as heirs and succession with great gloom. Meanwhile, Merlin locks the door to Arthur's chambers behind Gaius as he leaves, then crawls into bed with Arthur. He still looks pale, but his breathing is evening out and he’s looking better every second.  
“Are you alright?” Merlin asks.   
“Of course I am, it was your plan, wasn’t it?” he says, his voice still a bit weak. He takes in Merlin's expression and softens his tone. “Yes, I’m fine, Merlin. Don’t worry about me.”  
“I’m not… it’s just – I didn’t like seeing you sick, even if it was just pretend. You were still in pain.”  
Arthur cups his face, forcing Merlin to look up at him. “I’m fine, now. We won’t have to do that again. Besides it was worth it – did you see the look on my father’s face?”  
Merlin can’t help chuckling at the memory. “Gaius had better clear up the contact thing – make sure Uther knows you can still be in the same room as Morgana. She wouldn’t be happy…”  
His brow puckers in worry, and Arthur's fingers smooth over the lines. “I love you,” he says. Over the months, he’s gotten better at saying this. Now it hardly takes any effort at all.  
“Love you more,” Merlin says, grinning.   
Arthur pulls him closer, sighing contentedly. While Arthur was sick, Merlin had to keep his distance, as Uther was in and out too often for it to be safe for either of them to be looking too close.   
“When I’m king,” Arthur says, “I’ll lift the ban on magic. Then everyone will be able to see what you’ve done for the kingdom – what you still do. You’ll sit by my side at the throne, and we’ll rule a fair, just Camelot. We’ll make peace with the druids and help Kilgharrah rebuild the race of dragons. We’ll create Albion, Merlin, together.”  
As Arthur paints a picture with his words, Merlin can see it unfolding before his eyes. Arthur leans over to kiss him, and together, they face the future.


	7. Chapter 7

Author’s note: Ok, I know this is quite short, but the actual story is really finished – this is just an epilogue to sum everything up. I hope you enjoy it! Please remember to review :)

“No, Edward, come here!” Merlin yells, his voice high and panicky. The ten-year-old pays him no heed and continues running along the thin edge of the fountain. He wobbles, but before he can fall over, his eyes flash gold as he uses his magic to steady himself.  
“Edward, how many times do I have to tell you,” Merlin says wearily, walking over and scooping him off the fountain. “Magic is not a toy.”  
Edward just laughs and Merlin can hear Morgana laughing behind him as well. “If you can’t talk some sense into your son, he’ll have to go,” Merlin says, though he is smiling. “Really, Morgana, he’s going to be king someday, he needs to learn some responsibility.”  
“Come on, Merlin, let him have some fun! Arthur's already training him for hours every day – soon he’ll forget what fun is.”  
Edward struggles and Merlin wearily lets him go, watching the boy fondly.   
“Have you seen Arthur?” he asks Morgana.  
“He was visiting Lancelot and Gwen last I heard,” she says. “Go on, I’ll watch Edward.”  
Merlin gives her a grateful smile and hurries down to Gwen's house, where he finds her, Lancelot and Arthur enjoying lunch together.  
“Merlin,” Arthur says, smiling widely and pulling up a chair.  
“Your nephew is a monster,” Merlin grumbles, though he can’t keep the affectionate note out of his voice.   
“Perhaps you would prefer to be taking petitioners in the throne room?”  
Merlin cringes; Arthur knows how much he hates the tedious task.   
“Or maybe you could do some of the paperwork that we’re supposed to share,” Arthur continues, his eyebrows raised.   
“Ok, never mind!” Merlin relents. “I’m fine with babysitting duty, really.”  
“Good.” Arthur leans over to kiss him. Merlin watches Arthur's eyes carefully. “Relax, Merlin, I’m fine,” he says, reading the sorcerer’s expression easily.   
“You sure?”  
“I’m sure.” Arthur squeezes Merlin's hand as Merlin thinks back. It’s twelve years to the day since Uther died and Arthur took over as king. Though Arthur was of course sad to see his father go, no one can deny the relief that came with it. Arthur and Merlin were finally able to stop hiding their love, the ban on sorcery was lifted, and Camelot flourished.  
Albion was created and the land lives in peace and prosperity. Merlin reminds Arthur of this often, so on the anniversary of Uther's death, there are always plenty of happy memories to go with the sad ones.   
“Arthur was just telling us about that time you accidentally turned your hair blue, Merlin,” Gwen says, grinning.  
“That was not me! Morgana was experimenting and –”  
The three of them burst into laughter. “We know, Merlin,” Lancelot says, clapping him on the back and handing him a mug of tea – Arthur had long since banned anyone from giving Merlin alcohol, given his low tolerance. Merlin can’t really blame him; the last time he was drunk, he ended up setting Arthur's bed on fire. Arthur was not happy.  
“You’d look good with blue hair, though, Gwen,” Merlin says, grinning slyly at her. “Why don’t you let me…” he raises his hands invitingly, opening the flow to his magic just enough that his eyes glow gold.  
“No, Merlin, don’t you dare!” she shrieks, skittering backwards.  
This time, Merlin laughs with the rest of them.   
Merlin and Arthur spend the rest of the afternoon with Gwen and Lancelot before heading back up to the palace.   
“I should really go see Edward,” Merlin says reluctantly. “He hasn’t had his magic lesson yet today…”  
“I can think of a better use for your magic just now,” Arthur whispers in his ear, his breath tickling down Merlin's neck.   
“Oh yeah?”  
Arthur doesn’t reply, but sweeps Merlin off his feet and carries him back to their chambers and lays him gently down on the bed.  
“I love you,” Arthur says, looking down with such tenderness that it takes Merlin's breath away.  
“I love you.”  
Arthur leans forward, pressing his lips to Merlin's. “Now, about that magic…”

The End


End file.
